Dismembered
by BallcapWonder
Summary: It's finally happened. Beat's been arrested by the police force. But in that interrogation room is an officer who wants nothing more than to hear his story from start to finish. How did things turn up as they did, after all? A re-account of Jet Set Radio.


_Content Warning:_ Rating is M. Heavy language, substance abuse, slight sexual themes, and heavy violence warrant that rating. As for characters, there's one OC that plays a less than minor role appearing in this chapter and then perhaps an epilogue chapter. This story is about the kids, the gangs, and the originals from Jet Set Radio. It's a re-telling. No other inserts.

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"Alright, son, I'll be brief with you. After all, I want you to do most of the talking."

His arms were handcuffed behind his back to the bar of a metal folding chair. Rather, he had been in said position for over an hour now. When the shock of his carelessness leading up to this arrest finally subsided, he found he had nothing better to do than count the seconds ticking away along with the wall clock across from him. The clock went from eight to past nine, and soon after the metal door to his side clicked- the cold, desolate noise echoing in the room. In came a suited-up, middle-aged woman, police badge gleaming on her blazer's breast. There was nothing very noteworthy about her appearance, but the tone of her voice instantly irritated him to his core. Cocky, self-assured, nearly mirroring the tone he once had until reality tore off his wheels and, thus, his wings.

Beat scoffed and turned his head, doing his best to avoid her line of sight. "I'm sure you do. But if you think I'm going to rat anyone out then you have another thing coming." His reply was defensive, uncertain, and borderline insecure. "And I'm not your son. Don't call me that."

The woman chuckled, leaning back in the metal chair. She threw the hefty folder from her hands on the table. "I'm not looking for that kind of information. I'm curious about you. I want you to tell me your story if you want me hear about it."

Disbelief nearly caused him to turn back to her, but his bull-headed behavior fought against it and prevailed. "My _story_?"

She gave him an unnoticed nod. "Exactly. Your story from start to finish. From the day you went on the street looking for members of your gang to the moment you ended up in that chair."

"Why do you want to hear that?"

"Well, this _is_ an interrogation of sorts."

That did it. Beat whipped his head back to her. "An interrogation? Why? They caught me vandalizing public property, isn't that sort of an open-and-shut case?" Whatever sort of direction this was turning towards he didn't like it.

The woman flipped open the file and raised her brow. She thumbed through the pages one by one. "Multiple accounts of vandalizing property, three counts of arson, fourth-degree burglary, and assault and battery with an illegal weapon." The boy opened his mouth, initially to protest, but no words found their way out. "From your reaction I take it you weren't expecting to be wrongly accused. Well, either that or you weren't expecting to get caught. Your case is not open-and-shut. You'll be appointed a lawyer and you'll have a trial. Go through the whole process."

Defiance immediately took over that shock. "And this is supposed to be an interrogation? You're not a very good cop, you know. Where's Onishima? Huh? Why isn't he in here gloating about his success and stroking his dick, telling me what prison's like for little boys?"

A moment of silence ensued itself between them before the officer cracked a huge grin. Beat had to admit, it was surprising. Perhaps the old fucker wasn't as respected in the force as much as he thought. Or maybe she found amusement at how awkwardly he sputtered out those sentences. That thought had him pursing his lips. "You paint his picture so very well. So very well, indeed." Ah, so it was the former after all. She chuckled and leaned forward, folding her hands. "Onishima is, to say, _unavailable_ at the moment. I play a very small part in this, you must understand. I simply listen to what you have to say, anything or nothing at all. _Maybe _I ask a question or two, depending on the situation... But I want to hear the events leading up to these charges. That is, if you indulge me."

Indulge, let her hear... She kept emphasizing that part, as if she wanted him to feel he had some sort of control. _As if_. "You trying to intimidate me? _Scare_ me into talking?"

"Scare you? Scare you how, now?"

"I know how it works, I talk and you '_help_' me get a shorter sentence. Right? Help you to '_help_' me?"

"Well, I don't have a say in that. I'm not the one who bangs the gavel or grills the man on the stand. I sit back, give the occasional yes or no when necessary and listen." She began to spread several of the papers across the desk. "But on another note... This time of year is when they cut the heating to the holding cells so they can keep the offices nice and toasty."

"So?"

"So I can either send you to the freezing, concrete holding cell or we can have a nice cup of tea or coffee while you tell me your story. But, it's as I said." A smug grin was planted across her face, clear as day. He had a feeling it wasn't going away any time soon. "If it so pleases you. Although I have a hunch you'd rather stay away from a confined space with the same quality of heating as the street we plucked you out of." _This fucking bitch_... Beat bit his lip and glared at her across the table.

"...Well?"

"What is it, boy?"

_This fucking bitch_! "You're _seriously_ not going to ask me any questions? You're just going to let me talk?"

"I don't need to ask questions right now. After all, we haven't even started yet." Her calm and collected reaction accompanied by that sarcastic smirk was more frustrating than he could have imagined. "I prefer to take the passenger's seat in these situations, young man."

He snorted. There was nothing on this planet that even came close to being worse than smug authority. "Yeah, I'm calling bullshit on that. You're waiting for me to say something to screw me over and then you're going to pounce on me like a goddamn wild animal."

It took her a moment to seemingly process what he said before she stood up and walked casually to his side of the table. She passed and went to a smaller table in the corner he noticed on his way in. Beat heard the sound of water running, filling a vessel, and a then a small squeak as the water rush was cut off. A soft rustling sounding like cloth was followed by a rising hiss. For several minutes that noise resounded in the room with neither of them taking any initiative to continue their conversation. A sharp click and a gargling sound later, and soon the scent of cheap, instant coffee filled his nose. It shouldn't have been as comforting as it was.

She walked around him, reaching down to his bound arms and tinkering with his restraints. The cuffs came off and he immediately rubbed his tender wrists, ache not yet gone. The woman set a styrofoam cup down in front of him, its dark contents sloshing around and sending a warm, wafting trail of steam into the air. "You're smarter than you let on, son."

The idea of scalding her face with the boiling liquid crossed his mind for a brief minute, but the consistent chill running through his fibers still demanded it be tended to. Beat took the cup and, not even bothering to test the temperature, took a deep drink. His tongue flinched at the sudden shock of being burnt, but soon turned numb. The rush of liquid warmth went straight to his stomach and spread throughout his body little by little. Fingers that nearly had the skin rubbed off from his desperation to keep the blood flowing in December's merciless, freezing weather were trembling in a strange mix of pain and delight. Even his feet trembled, anticipating the warmth flooding through his body. He could practically feel the curious gaze from the officer seep under his skin.

Beat set the cup back down on the table as his nerves slowly melted away with the cold, turning into a much less desirable pang of buried emotions. He let out a shaky sigh, long since defeated and simply tired. "My story... My story sure as hell didn't end the way I wanted it to. I screwed up and I can't fix it. _I'm_ the reason everything's fallen apart."

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(A/N: Look for the A/N in the end, if you're interested. I'd never put a personal one in the beginning of the chapter. Only reason I did it here was to give full content labels. This is just the prologue, nothing much to say yet as it's only the beginning of the story... So I'll leave you to it and get started on the next chapter.)


End file.
